


Insomniac

by unoriginalwrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ADHD, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Insomnia, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith is a chaotic gay, Lance has mental problems, M/M, Slight mentions of Klance eventually, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unoriginalwrites/pseuds/unoriginalwrites
Summary: A Lance Mcclain StoryPlease, just go easy on that blue boy.He has no one to look past his white lies.And now he's a mix of sky blue,Because when there's no one to look inside you,Glassy eyes wander lost.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	1. The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter will be posted with a song to fit:
> 
> The Other Side by Conan Gray

The soles of shoes squeaked against the tile floors of this small high school as teenagers darted around each other worried they’d be late for their class. And inside this clusterfuck of hormone ridden, insecure high school kids stood the one and only Lance Mcclain. 

Adjusting his backpack that was always too heavy, hands rubbing his eyes that were always too sore, and fingers playing with nails and cuticles as if they always had to be preoccupied stood the Cuban boy himself.

Armoured in his traditional jean jacket that hung off his shoulders, and sleeves that reached beyond his already lanky arms, black skinny jeans that had to be rolled up past his ankle, and some t-shirt he grabbed or potentially wore to bed and never bothered to change out while getting dressed.

You may be wondering why he was wearing clothes that clearly didn’t fit him, it was a simple answer, hand me downs. When you're the middle child of a seemingly too large of a family it’s to be expected. 

Don’t think Lance didn’t like to dress in other clothes, oh no, quite the opposite. He enjoyed the stories it told and connected him to his older brother Marco who had moved out a couple of years ago. Although, Lance's siblings found the thought silly considering they got to see Marco all the time when he needed a babysitter for his kids Sophia and Carlos. 

However it wasn’t the fact he didn’t get to see him now, but more of his past. Being so far in age kind of left a gap in their relationship, more distant relatives than real siblings. 

Lance was sixteen, but Marco was twenty-seven. When Lance was a toddler his brother was an early teenager. Yet when he wore that jean jacket that had enough holes it could be cheese or jeans that went way too far down his lanky legs, he felt a connection and hearing the stories of how his brother went through middle school, and high school it made Lance not feel so alone.

And so forth, Lance continued to shimmy the jacket back on his shoulders, roll the sleeves up past his elbow, and sew a patch over the holes that made the article of clothing look like a dairy product.

He adjusted the jacket for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he walked through the school halls his friends next to him asking the same question they always have.

“Are you ever going to replace that thing?” Pidge questioned finally looking up from their phone, “You know just because your family provides you with free clothes you don’t have to wear them forever.”

“Pidge is right, in fact, every time we go over to your house we hear your mom complain about how run down it is,” Hunk agreed, his voice was nothing short of caring, the only criticism he ever spoke was for his friends benefit, but Lance was tired. 

Tired of hearing the same thing, tired of walking the same route to and from class every day, tired from lack of sleep, but he was never tired of fixing whatever he was wearing, and his friends just never understood that.

“You know why I don’t want to,” Lance perked up a bit flipping his hair dramatically, “I think you’re just jealous you can’t rock a look this avantgarde.”

Pidge looked down at the _Mothman is out there_ t-shirt they wore shrugging, “I hear your argument, but the court has decided to ignore it.”

The group chuckled, and Lance wiped his tired eyes once again, desperate to get to class and sit down.

“You feeling okay buddy?” Hunk asked noticing the redness that took over the sclera of Lances’ eyes.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine, it’s spring so my allergies are starting to act up,” he grinned confirming nothing was wrong.

Hunk nodded in understanding, “Ugh, yeah I hate that, you can stop sneezing, your eyes are itchy, and your nose is all stuffy bleh.”

“Fuck pollen,” Pidge added.

When Lance finally stumbled upon his classes he almost sighed in relief but ignored the urge careful not to break his facade.

“That’s me see you guys at lunch?” They both nodded and headed to their advanced math. Once Lance made it to the stiff government-issued seat he sighed, shoulders slumping sleeve shifting off, and back hunched. He rubbed his eyes once more. _Just another ninety minutes to lunch,_ he seemed to tell himself, _you got this._

It just so happened Lance did not have this. Apparently his teacher speaking nothing but a few words brought the Cuban boys’ mind to a haze. The sound seemed to drift in one ear and out the other, his vision shook and colors blurred together. He felt like he could see in Vang Gogh, but the off-brand Wal-Mart version.

His stomach churned and his head ached, all parts of his body, nagging, pleading at him to go to sleep. Despite his body's best efforts, he just couldn’t. Call it what you want, Lance being too addicted to his phone to fall asleep, him procrastinating his homework until ungodly times, playing video games or something, but to Lance, it was just him not being able to fall asleep. It was simple.

Even when his loud thoughts quieted down, even when he finished the level of his game and ready to go to bed, even finishing his homework early to get a good rest, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he couldn’t fall asleep. If he did it was near or even past three in the morning until his brain worked himself to the point of exhaustion. But when he did sleep it was restless, anxiety-inducing, and never left him fresh for the day.

No matter the tactic, drinking calming tea, taking a sleeping pill, or one time where he pulled an allnighter so he could fall asleep earlier the next evening, which helped that night but, after a few days it always ended up going right back to square one.

He rubbed his eyes once more, hoping he wasn’t rubbing off the concealer he used to hide the obvious bags. He played with the loose ringlets of curls on his head, picked at his finger, drew doodles on a page, but the nagging never quit so his attention was never where it needed to be.

He asked his desk partners to explain the questions over, he would ask them if the sentence he just wrote made sense and in actual English and not his mind blurring his native tongue with his second language. He tried everything he could, but it still made him feel annoying for having to ask so many times. He couldn’t help but feel as if he looked stupid either.

His fingers touched his pencil flipping it around twirling in his hands, spinning it around and around and-

“ _Mcclain! Mr. Mcclain,”_ harsh words drew his spiraling mind back to reality, “Are you with us?”

Lance gulped, guilt and anxiety of being called out in front of the class, “Um, yes uh sorry.”

His words were rushed and robotic, but foreign, almost as if the voice he spoke was someone else's. He scratched the back of his head, hoping the touch would keep his mind from floating, and keep him grounded to reality.

***

The end of class was finally here. Lances classmates rushed out of the room as fast as they could, desperate to get away. Lance just sat there popped his back and reached for his folders so he could slide them in his bag. He started to stand up, but the change in position caused the blood to rush to his head, black dots painted his vision. He gripped his desk trying to keep himself upright as he blinked away the intrusive black dots.

With the dizziness cleared and his legs feeling less like jello, he walked to the cafeteria desperate to see his friends and break from the monotone voices of his teachers.

***

Lance sat at the circle table lined with his friends. Hunk and Pidge sat on his left, Adam and Shiro on his right, and Romelle and Allura across from him. Hunk was eating whatever he pulled from his lunchbox which to Lance seemed endless cursed with an extension charm like Hermione's purse from Harry Potter. As Hunk munched on a sandwich he talked with the people around him, excluding Pidge whose focus was purely on their switch.

“Oh yeah!” Shiro said his voice perking up a bit, “I forgot to say my brother is transferring here from Marmora Academy.”

“Marmora? Isn’t that a prep school?” Allura asked. 

“Yeah, my brother, Keith, got kicked out after starting a fight,” Shiro rubbed the back of his neck, “Keith is crazy smart, but he lets his anger get a hold of his actions.”

Lance smirked, “A bad boy aye? I bet he has an aviator jacket and a motorcycle he named after an old pop artist or something.”

Then Shiro and Adam exchanged glances, “No way! Oh, my god! I bet it’s named after Celine Dion!”

“Sorry bud, Keith isn’t that original, he never named it until my constant nagging drove him crazy where he just started calling it Red.”

“Wow, truly I am very disappointed, what kind of insane kid wouldn’t name their vehicle after one of the top ten ranking artists in both the eighties and nineties?”

“Oh yeah?” Allura interrupted, “What are you going to name your nonexistent car then Lance?”

“Oh, I am so glad you asked I shall be naming my navy blue convertible Audi A4 Selena after the greatest Latina music artist of the nineties, nay the century,” Lance said matter of factly.

“Ah, should’ve guessed.” 

The conversation continued on from there, Shiro telling a story of Keith getting in trouble for his anger issues, Romelle talking about her younger brother whose a preteen and just reaching that moody stage, but Lance stopped paying attention by then and had transfixed his focus to a string on his jeans and he started pulling at it until it eventually snapped.

His head in his hand fingers fiddling with the now loose string Lance started to feel that tiredness start to pull back at him once again. He closed his eyes and just listened to his friends. Sleep not taking over, but it was better than nothing.

***

Lance walked through the small high school located in a small town in Arizona. His fingers brushed against the wall, the cold and grainy cement touched his fingertips reminding him he wasn’t floating aimlessly in a dream.

He finally stumbled into his class dragging out his seat and flinching at the sound of iron squeaking against tiled floors. It wasn’t very pleasant. He sat down, and let his mind wander around thinking of what he did today or yesterday, just trying to keep himself busy.

He wondered why this was happening to him, why he never could keep his attention for too long, or if he did it be something useless like a string hanging off his jeans, he wondered why he couldn’t fall asleep, and how maybe he should talk to his mom about it. No, he wouldn’t want her to worry about it, she had enough to worry about with Luis, Lance’s younger brother.

A couple of years ago Luis had started to have intense pain in his hips. Lance's family didn’t think much of it, maybe he just played a bit too rough with his friends, like most boys his age. But then the pain spread and he started to feel weaker and weaker. Lance’s mother Marina decided at that point to take him to the doctors. It was worse than they thought.

The joint pain turned out to be Lupus, an auto-immune disease that attacks your body's tissues and organs. Marina was mortified, to say the least, but she kept it together in front of her son. He was only eleven.

The doctor referred him to a specialist where Luis was put through a few different medical tests and finally, he was prescribed something that helped. Well, at least for the year. 

By the time Luis was about to end seventh grade, he got bad again. His school said he was looking dizzy all morning and by lunch, he passed out on the playground. Marina picked him up from school and told the boy to rest up in bed. He said he’d be fine, but he threw up in the middle of the night.

The following day Marina took Luis back to the doctors. 

They had already been informed there wasn’t a known cure for Lupus; however, there were medicines to keep it in check which is what Luis was taking. What they didn’t know what Luis’s body had started to get used to the medicine, and his body stopped reacting. He would need a kidney transplant.

Lance without a second of hesitation agreed to give Luis his second kidney, “Just know no matter how annoying I get, you’ll always have a piece of me in your heart, and now in your stomach too!”

After the operation, Luis was making steady progress, he had to be checked on about every month, but after that year every month turned into every other month, which turned into a couple of times a year. Now Luis looked just like any other fifteen-year-old kid, moody and irritable. Sure some days were harder than others, but Lance was there every step of the way, and Luis couldn’t be more grateful.

And it was easy for Lance to support Luis throughout his recovery, he didn’t want there to be a gap between them like him and Marco. 

Lance looked back up to the clock on the wall, he still had another hour of this hell. The Cuban boy wondered why he was thinking about this now when normally these life-altering thoughts were the things that led him to lay awake at night. If he thought about them during the day would it be better tonight? Would it be worse? 

He was in his bed, in his head, thinking of what he would be thinking about. The sheets itched his back, he was too hot then too cold, his leg bounced up and down rhythmically and his mind spiraled within itself. _Maybe it’s okay,_ He told himself. Maybe the reason he couldn’t quite label his thoughts was that there is nothing wrong. Maybe everything stuck in his brain was normal, and that was the reality he couldn’t accept.

Because everyone is different, but everyone's brain looks the same. Maybe he just wanted to be special for once, and that is something he couldn’t admit.

His brain brought him back to Earth when someone clicked their pen next to him, and when he was trapped in reality. Two parts of a whole, in two places, senses, in reality, mind in space. He doesn’t need to be a perfect whole, he never has been, he can get through this. Can’t he?


	2. Burned Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By dodie

Slammed textbooks, tired blue eyes, and a buzzing mind later Lance finally hit his pillow with his head. His mind running a mile a minute as he wished for sleep. Sadly that’s not what came. Or maybe it was? He couldn’t tell anymore. Is his brain already loopy and hallucinating throughout the day was sleeping any different? His blanket light, but too warm and the cold night air that would infect his skin with goosebumps as the darkness weighed him down. 

His world comes to a close as his eyes, too tired to keep them open, shut slowly. What’s the point of him staying awake if reality and he has horrible chemistry and aren’t on speaking terms?

He thought about how Hunk and Pidge would pick him up in the morning and how he would go through this hell again the next day, and how every class would feel like hell, and how his eyes would start to shake and make him feel ill, and how he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in Math class yesterday because he didn’t know how to do the homework. How he should’ve apologized because he didn’t want to seem rude. Plus, he didn’t want to be a bother to the teacher, he’s a ghost living in a mindless purgatory so why shouldn’t he just die?

His hyperactivity, like most nights, visited him. Touched his leg where it would shake, and kissed his forehead till his brain couldn’t stop thinking. Couldn’t stop at a red light because he just couldn’t wait. Wait to see Hunk and Pidge in Hunk’s mom's old green minivan. The gross cup holders that he stuck his hand into once for a dare regretting it instantly. He couldn’t wait to see his friends at the lunch table, Romelle helping Allura with her AP biology still confused on why she decided to take the class. Pidge probably working on next week's homework. Shiro and Adam being the cutest couple who’d probably win prom king and queen in the spring because that’s just how amazing they are. 

Gods, they were amazing why wasn’t Lance so amazing like them why wasn’t he enough? And Hunk, oh gods Hunk, even though how spaced out Lance was all the time he still was friends with him, the nicest sweetest boy, but Lance could never fully believe their friendship was genuine. Hunk was kind to everyone he had ever met, never once saying anything rude. So, maybe Hunk was just lying to Lance, too nice to end their friendship, and too nice to ever say anything bad to him. So, who knows? Maybe all he had were bad thoughts. 

To an outsider, Lance’s thoughts seemed outrageous, completely incorrect Hunks’ warm heart was genuine and if he ever had a negative thought he would probably just forget about it and move on. Who was he to judge someone's actions?

But to Lance he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help but think ‘What if?’ and normally those what-ifs were always negatives.

All of this came to the Cuban boy in his deep-sea brain, the scuba goggles that made him look like a bug. Watching sharks being pulled from their home watching them come back with fewer teeth and fewer limbs, could they even swim without their fins? Maybe they’ll just drown. Maybe he should just drown.

His bed a submarine pulling him farther and farther below sea level. The fish swimming in and out of his ears mushing up his brain, his lungs heavy and thick unable to breathe. Hyperventilating underwater turning him insane. But he couldn’t die yet. His friends would be there to pick him up the next day in Hunks’ old green minivan.

So, there he laid self-deprecation and sleep deprivation mixing to make a spoiled smoothie no one would ever want to drink. The old spiderman clock sat stagnant on his bedside table, red numbers blinking, reading four-eight am.

***

“You’re from Marmora Academy right?” Allura questioned. The black-haired boy nodded, like the fact that he was from a fancy ‘prep’ school didn’t even matter to him.

Lance rolled his eyes. Lance quickly did a look over ‘Keith’ trying to take in his appearance.

“So? Why were you transferred?”

“Hmm? Oh, this kid was bothering me, so... I- I got mad,” Keith said it stuttering over his worse as if cautious he might say something wrong in front of people he barely knew.

“Someone called him gay so he punched him.” Shiro deadpanned. “Hey!” Keith slapped Shiro in the arm, and not in a friendly teasing brother way. “Ow!” 

“Hey, no need to be shy around us,” Pidge gestured around the table, excluding Lance and Hunk, “welcome to the homo household, the gay gang, the queer cluster, the fag formation.”

Obviously excluding Lance. No one knew about his secret summer affair with a certain light brown-haired boy. How are you supposed to say you had your sexual awakening with your best friend's brother before he left for university without crushing their hearts? If you hadn’t guessed already, Lance had that, stereotypical, utterly sickly sweet, Netflix summer romance with the one and only Matthew Holt. 

“Oh, Shiro, Pidge said a bad word!” Romelle squealed pointing at the kid.

“That was one time!” the senior complained resting his head on Adam's shoulder.

It was something Lance never wanted to forget, and they still talked all the time, but before the two boys ever did anything they agreed it was just a summer fling. It was over now. It was over almost a year ago as the spring began to close and the harsh heat drew closer. But as the clouds parted and the sun woke from her months-long slumber, the rays that hit Lance’s tanned skin felt much too familiar.

He was also worried his friends would roll their eyes and say it was a one-time thing, say it wasn’t real “cause people find the same sex attractive”, or just invalidate him as he had only ever had feelings for girls, well feelings he shared.

But that summer he spent with Matt felt real. Realer than these school days that passed by nothing ever-changing, the same routine of getting out of bed, go to school, go home. It was the first time in a long time he had ever felt so awake.

Hand holding under the glow in the dark stickers stuck to his ceiling, light kisses in their old elementary school’s playground, sharing an earbud while drinking milkshakes, fingertips brushing along the freckles painted on Lance’s dark skin. 

He finally felt grounded, like after a life underwater he could finally breathe a breath of fresh air as cool wind nipped at his ears, messing up his curly hair. 

He didn’t miss Matt. Whenever they did talk all they discussed were things they had been up to. Matthew told him stories of how University was going. The work, the parties, his new girlfriend who remained a mystery. Those things didn’t bother Lance. He was just happy to see Matt being himself and so happy. And that made him feel happy. 

“Then yeah I punched a guy at my old school because he called me gay, not that he was incorrect or anything.” Keith rubbed the back of his neck anxious as to how the rest of them would react. Hunk gave him a high five, Pidge did too, Allura clapped and giggled, Shiro, patted him on the back with his free hand, the other wrapped around Adams back who smiled at him.

It’s not that Lance missed Matthew, well obviously did, they were friends, but he didn’t miss him romantically. He just missed the idea of romance, someone to hold his hand when he needed it. The small touches were always the most comforting to him. When he was mentally drained, and just didn’t want to be touched the small things like that always made him relax. His hair being played with, his shoulders being rubbed, his back being scratched very lightly to the point it almost tickled, kisses to his fingertips and temple, or just their pinkies being held instead of their whole hand. 

It was the simple things that encouraged Lance so much. It showed someone cared enough to look at the finer details, someone who truly paid attention to him.

He missed kissing, something so small that it could give him so much energy and resolution.

Someone to wake him up softly instead of the annoying buzz of his phone that only put him in a bad mood as the repetitive toon played in and out of his dreams.

And sometimes it would only play in his dreams resulting in oversleeping and a rush to put pants on and hope they were clean to wear to school, which oddly enough wasn’t a good start to the day. 

Waking up by himself to see an empty bed next to him, but hearing the shower running, knowing he was only a few feet away and would be back soon, it gave Lance such an intimate feeling and he relished in it. He relished in the domesticity of it all.

Sleeping in general. Someone to remind him that it’s okay to close his eyes and accept the numbing darkness for his brain to refresh itself. Someone playing with his brown curly hair, or scratching his back slightly to help him fall asleep, borrowing Matts clothes when he forgot pajamas and vice versa. Gods, he missed it so much. 

***

Keith was a little surprised, to be honest by everyone’s reaction when he said he punched someone mostly because they supported it. Suprised to know half the group was queer too, and even the ones who weren’t like Hunk, he still gave him a fist bump. The person who surprised him the most was the only other straight person there. Lance after being introduced by Hunk, was the only one who avoided Keith, especially when his brother outed him. He had his chin in his hand and avoided his gaze. Was Lance homophobic? 

The question seemed out of place, considering he was in a group of clearly not straight’s, but the more he thought about it the only time he ever really talked was when Hunk tried speaking to him.

So, maybe…

***

Later when Lance got up to read Romeo in their English class, which the two now shared, he noticed that the Cuban boy wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t have some form of fear of performances, so the reason Lance stayed quiet around their friends wasn’t because he was shy, or perhaps even socially anxious, Keith continued to grow slightly suspicious, of the lanky boy dressed in blue.

***

His mind a black void and his body a human tumble dryer just itching to move, Lance couldn’t help, but get up and read out loud, he normally does, it gives his brain something to do which makes his body not go into sleep default mode. 

For example, during the time his English teacher was lecturing about commas or something, Lance was putting every milligram of his power to not fall asleep to the point the teachers words drowned out and he was left in deafening silence, he still didn’t know if when his vision went black it was because his eyes had closed or not, and this was a normal thing for him.

Most of the time when he tried not to fall asleep in class his stomach ached, but today was different, cause even in conversations he would black out and not feel a thing, the worst part he didn’t even notice he wasn’t there mentally until someone sitting next to him had to call out his name shocking him from his brain plummeting into what felt like sleep.

So he decided standing up and talking out loud would be a good idea, give him something to do rather than just sit in a chair while his brain runs a marathon. 

It also was nice to read Romeo and Juliet. If anyone met Lance you would know he is a total thespian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sadly couldn't finish my newest chapter of Lethal (one of my other fics) before Christmas so I hoped you enjoyed this chapter as a belated gift <3


	3. If I’m Being Honest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By Dodie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably a chapter Im the most proud of as it features a song I wrote myself called “Don’t Blink”

By now Lance was just tired, tired of having to go through this bullshit every day. Just about ready to call his mom and tell her he felt sick just so he could go home and not deal with this hell he called school. He started dreading the thought of having to go to school, just another reason to add to the infinite list of how much it sucked. He didn’t need any more examples within this clusterfuck that already clouded his brain. He thought about how he could never stay home from school due to there never being a real reason behind the constant anxiety.    
He didn’t have a reason. He was just anxious. However, the revelation came to him when he was finishing up the last step of his trigonometry homework at of course the ungodly time of one am.    
The reason being his brain unconsciously deemed it a negative place because of how exhausted and ill he felt sitting in those rock hard chairs. Well that’s what he’d hoped it gave him an explanation at least.

Now that revelation came he wondered what he could do about it, he assumed he should see a doctor or something, but there was nothing seriously wrong with him. He just needed some melatonin, that’s it yeah.

As Lance continued his spiral he began to pick at the silvery metallic nail polish his niece had painted on his short fingertips with the skin damaged around the cuticles due to him picking at them whenever he’s nervous, or bored, or sad. 

He felt bad chipping off such an ‘artistic masterpiece’ or so he told his niece, but Sophia reassured she didn’t mind considering she just got to repaint them the next day.

Plus, it helps ground him in a way that doesn’t physically hurt him like peeling his skin would.

***

Maybe he needed help.

***

By now it was the end of school on Wednesday and Lance played with the beads on his wrists trying to find a way to tell his mom, in the end he didn’t. Someone else had to.

***

Rachel didn’t expect to walk into her twin brothers room to find Lance splayed across the desk fast asleep, lined sheets of paper littered his desk and rolled up balls around his feet.

She walked over and brushed some of Lances curled away from his face. What she saw was a boy at peace with mind fast asleep, but his eyes were red and sticky from tears, his eyes baggy. Rachel walked over to the boys bed and brought a throw blanket and pillow over. She lifted his head gently to place the cushion under his head and threw the blanket over him. She could sense something was wrong, twin instinct you could say.

Rachel McClain looked over the papers strewn across the desk, picking up a sheet of paper Spanish and English scratched across the lines, written rushed and words scratched out in frustration.

Rachel’s heart sank realizing what his words attempted to speak.

She rubbed Lances back turned off his desk lamp and walked out the room. 

***

“Mama, pienso hay algo mal con Lance…”

***

Lance woke up the next day his neck a lot less stiff the twenty seconds of peace quickly interrupted when he realized the light shining through his window,  _ shit what time was it. _

He quickly threw on a clean shirt and ran down his staircase to hear his mom in the kitchen.

“¿Mama, que hora es, tengo la escuela?” Lance said trying to remember where he put his red and blue windbreaker.

“No tienes la escuela hoy, mi hijo,” Marina spoke turning away from the breakfast she was in the middle of making, “necesitamos hablar.”

_ Mierda. _

**** 

Marina led herself and Lance towards the kitchen table. 

She sat down and held her sons hands in hers. She took a deep breath, the words she’d planned raced around in her mind, letters spilled into alphabet soup.

“I don’t,” Marina cleared her throat and continued, “before I say anything I want you to know your not in any trouble.” Lance visibly unstiffened.

“I want you to know, I love you so much mi hijo, and I want you to know you can tell me anything and I’ll be there cause I’m your mother and you happiness means the world to me.”

Lance nodded his stomach swirling in anxiety, “Now, Rachel went into your room last night, and the words you wrote were a bit worrying.”

Lances hand got sweaty and he felt his blood pressure rise throughout his body. 

“And I know it must be hard talking to people you care about so, I booked you an appointment with a counselor, because I want you to be able to talk to at least somebody okay mi hijo?”

Lance nodded his brain not knowing what to feel. “Anyways go back to bed, with what Rachel read last night I think you need it, don’t worry I’ve already called you in sick.” Lance's mom kissed her son's forehead and walked back into the kitchen, “Te amo mama,” “Te amo Lance, ahora dormir.”

Lance smiled and walked back up the stairs, the thought of his red and blue windbreaker far from his thoughts.

He closed his bedroom door peeling off his shirt and jeans he fell asleep in, them being uncomfortable and itchy.

He climbed into his bed and for the first time in a while he was completely exhausted, and didn’t have a million thoughts running through his head, he wasn’t at school exhausted. He just felt calm.

He opened his phone to see a bunch of texts from his friends curious as to where he was and saying the general “Hope you feel soon,” and a Snapchat of Keith laughing so hard he snorted milk out his nose.

Lance laughed at that until his stomach hurt, he was sad he wasn’t there to experience that in real life. Huh, maybe high school wasn’t so bad.

Instead of replying to any of the snaps he just put on the heart crown filter and took a pouty photo captioned “sick day ;(“, he uploaded it to his story too lazy to individually text everyone or have to reread the groupchat.

And for once in a long time Lance fell asleep happy, and eager to go back to his own dreamscape.

**** When Lance finally got out of bed after drifting in and out of sleep he wandered into the kitchen. Finding his little brother, and his mom still there starting to work on dinner for their excessively large family. Like normal, Luis was trying to help, Marina kept pushing him off and telling him to lie down after a long day at school. Luis insisted he was fine but that wouldn’t be enough for the overprotective Marina and her son with a kidney problem. The wrestling matches the two boys would play, were always fixed considering Lance always let him win. Even if Luis would never admit that.

*** 

Dinner itself wasn’t extravagant, but Lance actually feeling an appetite was a nice surprise.

***

Sophia started to paint Lances nails again this time a nice glittery pink which made Lance feel like a princess.

“Estoy muy bonita princesa, sí?” Lance questioned flicking the purple boa scarf around his shoulders, causing Sophia to giggle and nod, “Oh Mrs. Princess would you like some tea?” 

“Oh, I'd love some Mrs. Sophia!” The little seven year old began to pour Lance imaginary tea into his small plastic cup, “Pinkies up!”

They sipped it and Lance made a coughing noise, “How dare you! This preposterous I asked for two sugars, there is clearly only one.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry Mrs. Princess I’ll remake that right away,” Sophia giggles and ran around the plastic table they sat at and towards her fake kitchen in the corner. Lance laughed, the only time he ever got a break was with his niece, and nephew. Sadly, Carlos was at soccer sleepover.

While Sophia was galavanting around in her boa scarf and plastic tiara Rachel walked into the room. 

“Hey man,” Rachel spoke sitting down and crossing her legs. Lance looked up to his sibling acknowledging her presence. 

“You know you could’ve told me-” Sophia ran over and jumped on Rachel.

“This a royals only tea party!” The little girl yelled.

“Oh it’s okay Soph, Rachel here is my disciples,” Lance winked over at Rachel.

“Oh yes master Lance-”

“Mrs. Princessa.” she corrected as if it were obvious.

“Mrs. Princessa,” Rachel repeated giving Lance a look.

Lance Spoke up, “Mrs. Rachel here could use a cup of your delicious tea.” 

Sophia piped up and jumped from Rachels lap and ran over to her plastic kitchenette.

“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you,” Rachel cleared her throat, “I know we haven’t really been each other's best friends, share a room, or talk about crushes since like middle school, but just because we grew apart and entered different rooms and friend groups I’m still your sister,” 

“I know Rach, and I’m grateful, but when you’ve gotten so used to being silent about your feelings, you I dunno, you get used to it.” 

“Well, you don’t have to suffer in silence anymore, and I don’t want you to think I’m making you talk about your problems, but I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me.” Lance nodded adding in a smile to reassure her. 

“Anyway we should probably get this princess to bed before mama throws a fit,” Lance said standing up, “does Mrs. Sophia need her royal beauty sleep?”

Sophia shrieked and tried to run away as if the idea of going to bed was the plague. 

“Good luck dweeb,” and with that, plus a middle finger from Lance, Rachel made her leave. 

“What are we going to do with you?” Lance asked Sophia.

“Drink more tea!” 

Yeah that was a reasonable answer, a small debate ran through his head deciding if she really should be tucked in bed or play more. Sadly, this was a child who needed sleep not Lance who could stay awake through a whole Mrs. Peters math class. Which was victorious enough even if you didn’t have a horrible sleep pattern.

Lance lifted up the little princess and took her into the room she shared with Lance’s older sister Veronica whenever Sophia stayed the night.

Sophia was Lance’s older brother, Marco’s daughter. He married a girl named Carmen and had Sophia when Lance was nine. At first, he was upset him and Luis weren’t the center of attention, now that he’s grown up he would take a bullet for either of them easily. 

Veronica was sat at her desk when Lance entered, Sophia sat on his hip. 

“Hey loser,” Lance rolled his eyes, “You here that Soph, Rachel is such a meanie, you like Tío Lance, right?” “Mrs. Princessa,” Sophia agreed, “Come on Soph let’s stick out our tongues at the meanie!” 

Veronica sat there, “Aww, Sophia you really hurt my feelings, Lance is the really meanie!” You could tell the confused seven years old felt remorse as she started to kick her legs to be put down, and her face squishes in anguish. 

“I’m sorry Ronnie!” She sprinted over to the eighteen-year-old as soon as her feet touched the ground.

“It’s okay sweetie, but Lance can leave cause I’m still upset.” Sophia nodded causing the plastic tiara upon her head to tilt over.

_ “Puta.”  _ Lance cursed walking out the door, “Mama! Lance called me a-!” “No, I didn’t!”

***

Lance sat on the roof outside his window, his acoustic guitar rested upon his knees. The tips of the sparkly pink nail polish chipped off with each strum. 

“ _ Eyes dried from staring too long at the sun I swear I know you’re the one. Painted black nails and snow like pale, _ ”

The birds cooed around him as if his singing was causing a disturbance. Well, they were probably trying to sleep.

“ _ Sand between your toes, kisses a top of your nose, a cup of green tea, baby I love it when you hold me,” _

__ The guitar strings plucked at his fingers numbness spread turning skin to wax.

_ “Honey eyes meets mine, ocean tides, grey skies feeling scandalized,” _

Lance thought about Matt that night on the roof, his abrupt leave. He knew it was coming, but as time flew by while he was having fun his leave came sooner and scared him as he turned the corner.

_“I_ _don’t want to blink, I don’t want to forget cause that means it’s the end, I don’t want to think, I couldn’t comprehend, so don’t blink, cause I want to be more than just friends_ ,”  
  


Faster than him saying goodbye Matt left leaving him awake at night his brain a washing machine. So quick, he didn’t have enough time to write a breakup song.

_ “Brown hair, when the split ends, blow through the air, my heart flutters everywhere,” _ _   
  
_

And now it’s over... it’s a heartbreak song.

  
“ _ Mi amor, sientes lo mismo, porque estoy bien contigo, tu sonrisa perfecta,” _ _   
_ __

Pins and needles started to poke his fingertips, as he played to the crowd of silence.

_   
_ _ “I don’t want to blink, I don’t want to forget cause that means it’s the end, I don’t want to think, I couldn’t comprehend, so don’t blink, cause I want to be more than just friends _ _   
  
_

Why can’t what we had been forever, a frozen clocked stored in a glacier.

  
“ _ iPhone games, drive me insane, you don’t listen when I say ur cute, ‘cause it seems like you have nothing to prove,” _ _   
  
_

The times we laid in your bed small touches to phone screens instead of each other.

“ _Y tus ojos miel, y tus labios bonitos, y tus caderas pequeñas, y tu todo porque todo de ti me encanta,”_ _  
_  
  


You used to melt my heart till it turned to liquid, then drank it up, but now you probably don’t give a fuck.

“ _ no quiero parpadear, no quiero olvidar porque significa el fin, no quiero pensar, no pude comprender, no parpadear, porque quiero ser mucho más que amigos.” _

  
  


By now Lance didn’t know who he was singing too, he never felt sad at Matthew like he said before he just missed having love, and whenever the pair texted or skyped Lance never felt sad. He had moved on, so who was he singing to?

The wind blew past Lance’s neck pulling him down from his mind escape to the ground below. The cold bringing chill, spreading the infectious goosebumps across his skin, hair standing on end. 


	4. Greek God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By Conan Gray

By now Keith was slightly convinced Lance was homophobic, at the very least just uncomfortable by gay people, he seemed to space out all the time, especially when Allura and Romelle, or Shiro and Adam did something coupley.

Did it bother him? No. A little. Yes, and it bothered Keith that he couldn’t confirm anything so he really shouldn’t be making accusations, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe it’s because at his old school people wouldn’t tease him directly about his sexuality, but more so hinted at it. Lance's mannerisms reminded him of that.

Oh, how wrong that emo boy could be.

***

Lance walked behind his group of friends, the line of people he walked with always so large for the hallway so he was trailing the one to be left out. This made him feel a bit out of place, but he didn’t mind, he could talk to other friends he would eventually find on the way to class, plus people in the group would leave and he could talk to the smaller group as everyone went their separate ways.

` Lance eventually was only left with Keith as they walked to their math class. Not many would realize, but Lance was pretty good at math. It helped him focus because a small mistake while doing the formula could mess up the problem, and doing each step as a pattern helped him learn.

Lance didn’t even realize he was spacing out again, and about math of all things. He realized when Keith coughed, probably because he swallowed spit or something, but it left trails of awkwardness.

“Oh sorry my head was in the clouds,” Lance smiled. 

“Yeah, it seems like that’s where it normally is,” Lance's stomach sank.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Oh now someone is listening,” 

“I uh..”

“Forget it,” and with that Keith stormed into their shared classroom.

What the fuck.

***

Lance quickly learned Keith had some sort of personal vendetta against him. Throughout the class, which he normally enjoyed, he could feel the violet eyes burning into his scalp. 

His leg bounced, his pen swung in his fingertips and his eyes were trained on the board, but his mind was continuously thinking about a certain boy with black hair, and red oversized hoodies.

His hair was a mullet, there was no denying that, and Lance hates how well Keith pulled it off. The long strands around his ears and how the fringe against his forehead framed his jawline nicely, a few strands falling over his deep violet eyes. He was sure he could find the titanic shipwreck in them.

Keith’s page wasn’t covered in doodles, but more so he just liked coloring in the margins. Gave him something to do while he waited for the dumb class to be over.

Lance’s brain normally focused on the notes he was taking was now focused on the boy who sat next to him. The glint in his violet eyes, how he didn’t sit stiff, but his natural slouch was him sitting up straight with his jaw unclenched, kind of like his being was just always on edge. He didn’t seem uncomfortable though, he looked bored almost ready to fall asleep. It was weird but endearing.

The Cuban boy hadn’t noticed he’d been staring until he looked back up to Keith’s face which looked pretty pissed off, to which Lance look back at the whiteboard quickly shoulders stiffening. He turned to look at the chipped glittery pink around his fingers and started to pick it then moving to the cuticle skin after all the paint scraped off. This was going to be a long class.

***

Keith was just generally pissed off with the Cuban, honey skin, colorful eyes and curly hai-,  _ Keith stop it, _ sitting next to him, what was his problem just staring at him like that? Having Lance's eyes all over him made him super uncomfortable, and put him on edge. He couldn’t say anything they were in the middle of a lesson, so he gave Lance a look and maybe he'd take the fucking hint.

After the gesture, Keith gave when Lance turned away he had a sense of victory. So, why did it make his stomach ache?

***

Lunch came quicker than expected, luckily, and Lance and Keith sat well across from each other. Engrossed in different conversations.

“Allura you’re not listening to me, the rule of a Punnett square is a dominant trait, and a non-dominant meaning if demigods are half god half-person there’s a 25% chance of them giving birth to a god!” 

“Lance that’s fucking insane! Gods don’t have DNA!”

“Would you both shut the fuck up me and Hunk are playing smash!” Pidge yelled over the chaos, eyes trained on the Nintendo Switch game.

“Dare you to lick the game!” Lance challenged.

“Bet.” Pidge deadpanned ejecting the game piece.

“Pidge I was winning!” Pidge looked Hunk right in the eye as they put the game into their mouth, “You can’t stop m-” 

In an instant, they started gagging, “EaK! Ugh! It tastes like earwax and acid!”

“Come on, don't be so dramatic,” Keith butted in. Pidge spat the piece at him, “Try it.”

“What? No! I’m not an idiot,” 

“Bet.”

“Okay fine!” Keith took the game piece, still wet from Pidges mouth and threw it in his mouth.

At first, it didn’t taste like much so Keith look smug, “What it’s not that ba-,” Keith spat out the piece near Lance, “Oh god I’d rather lick Shiro’s post-football game sock, ugh sjdskd,” 

“Did he just verbally keyboard smash?” Hunk questioned,

“He is gay,” Pidge added on. 

Meanwhile, Shiro just looked offended, “My socks aren’t that bad!”

Adam shook his head. They were.

“Love, as much as you deny it even I won’t hug you before you change out of your nasty ass jersey.” Shiro rolled his eyes kissing his partner on the cheek.

“As much as I love how we are all making fun of Shiro, Pidge would you please take this gross ass thing out of my space bubble!”

Keith stared directly into his eyes, “Keith no.”

“B-” 

‘I have a wife and family,” Lance pleaded.

Allura interrupted, “No, you don’t.” 

Lance gasped, “Is this our divorce?” 

Allura giggled and nodded, “I thought you loved me!”

“Bet,” Keith repeated.

“Salud, motherfuckers,” He stuck the game piece in his mouth, it still damp from the previous eaters, it grossed him out more than having the actual flavor which he didn’t even get to taste as the saliva alone grossed him out enough to the point he was gagging up his lunch.

“Oh gods that tasted worse than my home ec project, and I swear I saw it move by itself,” Keith made a face and Pidge almost fell out of their seat in a fit of giggles, Hunk was just staring off into the distance, the memories of Lances home ec project haunting him.

“Hunk you good there buddy?” His face turned green as if he just span three loopy loops on a rollercoaster.

“Yeah,” he shivered.

The bell rung sending Hunk out of his flashback and everyone sat up grabbing their bags, “Oh, hey y’all want to come over tonight?” Shiro questioned as his fingers intertwined with Adams.

A bunch of sures' erupted around the table except for one boy, “Sorry Shiro I have to go to my doctors' appointment tonight.” 

Shiro smiled and nodded, “No problem next time yeah?”

“Definitely,” they went their separate ways.

Lance hadn’t technically lied, but this wasn’t some run of the mill check-up, it was Lance’s first therapy appointment. He wasn’t exactly excited about it.

***

Keith got that agitated feeling again when Lance denied coming over, he had a small suspicion Lance was lying about his doctor's appointment, which made the ball of anger he stored in his stomach churn. He had such a fun time with Lance at lunch. His face when he tasted the game piece was comedy gold and the fact that Keith just didn’t fully trust him pissed him off.  _ Not everyone is homophobic Keith _ , he seemed to tell himself, but his trust issues still got to the best of him. 

***

_ I guess this is it. _

__ Lance's thoughts ran wild in that car journey, his body arguing against itself.  _ Was this a good idea? Did he need help? Maybe he should’ve just shut up, why did he write out those papers, why did Rachel have to unnecessarily just walk into his room? Oh god, it was all Rachel's fault, no it wasn’t dumbass you got yourself into this situation. Gods just shut up, gods! Just shut up! Ju- _

“Lance, cariño?” Marina questioned rubbing her son's shoulder, “everything okay?” Lance smiled and nodded, clearly a lie. When did his lying become so automatic? Maybe he did need this.

Lance wiped his hands on his distressed blue jeans and clicked the car door open. He walked over to his mom and linked a few fingers in her, his other hand reached up to his mouth starting to chew on the skin around his fingers, giving himself something to do.

The waiting room screamed in silence, the annoying noise of a phone going off and keyboards being clicked. It was not relaxing in the slightest.

Eventually, Lance and his mom were called to meet with this tall thin looking woman, her name was Honerva. Lance thought the name was pretty, but any other thoughts of her weren’t worth mentioning considering he didn’t know what to think of her. Except for the fact she put too much makeup on. Despite her darker skin tone, the fluorescent pink blush around her cheeks did not help calm the Cuban boy's nerves. He tightened on his mom’s hand.

He didn’t want to seem like a child, but he didn't know what else to do. His mom was the only person he truly felt comfortable within an unfamiliar place. He felt out of place, insecure, and awkward.

Honerva, to describe her, she seemed quiet, nice in a way, and sophisticated. Her overall physique and posture set Lance on edge.

Today all they did were discussing was a questionnaire Lance had to fill out prior and what each thing meant. He hated how that’s something he had to talk about in front of his mom. Especially the time when she asked about sexuality. He wasn’t ready to talk about that in front of his mom yet. So of course, he lied his ass off and told the woman what he would tell anyone. He knows who he is, straight. If it was something worth mentioning he would’ve told her later, not in front of Maria Mcclain. 

By the end of it, Lance felt as if he ran a 5k then performed a spelling bee. He was exhausted and didn’t want to talk anymore. 

In the car ride home Lance didn’t speak, afraid of his own words. The itchy car seat belt rubbed on his shoulder. He rested his head against the chair. He breathed in deeply. Letting his vulnerable mask start to rework the strings around his brain. It’s what he was used too. It’s what he felt most comfortable in. 

In all honesty, whenever Lance did speak out it just made him feel worse. He felt like never talking again. But in the end, his hyper mind would get the best of him and he’d speak out randomly, which he overthought, and promised himself not to say out loud. Of course, then his hyperactive mind would just force that out his mouth, and he’d be back at square run, hating himself for speaking, then breaking promises.

Most people were scared of Ferris wheels because it was high. Lance was afraid of his Ferris wheel mind that kept coming back to meet him at his lowest despite the highs.

Not only that, but he didn’t want to put any more pressure on his mom. With everything that happened with Luis, he didn’t want to stress her anymore. The scar across his lower abdomen proved just that. He didn’t want to take off any of the attention his fifteen-year-old brother should be having.

No wonder he kept himself awake at night when he had all these things inside his mind. His friends probably didn’t think this way allowing them to succeed in life. Shiro with his football, Adam his photography, Hunk with his cooking, Pidge with her well everything, Allura her smarts, and Romelle with her artistry.

So, what was Lance good at? Did he even have a ‘thing’?


	5. Please Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by mxmtoon

As the sun fell into its deep sleep, the small city in Arizona descended into dull darkness, Lance's mind created an accurate representation of that.  
Lance didn’t think of himself as depressed per se, or anything sad, he just felt average. He sometimes wished there was something wrong with him. It will be an easier fix. Not having too much acceptance there wasn’t wrong with him seemed weird. And if he was told everything was fine, he’d feel insane. There has to be something there. There has to be.  
Gods, he just wanted to sleep this all off, but it’d be back in the morning. As always it’d be back in the morning.  
Please just go easy on the blue boy. He has no one to look past his white lies. No one to search deep into his brain into his labyrinth to find the chaos inside. Not even himself. Cause there was nothing wrong with him. Right?  
The debate in his mindset him on edge, allowing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up, his smooth honey skin infected with goosebumps.  
Taking a hoodie, zipping it up to his lips, locking it, and throwing the key out his window. Hearing the clack of metal against metal as it falls down the rooftop where he once sat the night prior.   
Please go easy on me.  
The words spiraling in his mind, words repeating themselves over and over. He wanted to scream them out. Instead, his zipped lips remained quiet as his hands shook, pulling at his hair to give them something to do.   
He stood up. Up from the bed that itches his back, that was too warm, that was too cold, the sheets that were too rough, but also the mattress too soft. He stood up.  
His pajama pants falling on his waistline.  
His nasty forest green painted nails ran along the side of the walls connected his body to the world, but his mind was in a haze. His brain and body are two different things.  
He walked into the kitchen grabbing a glass of water. He sat at the breakfast table. The time read 3:57.   
And there he sat until 6:30 waiting for his friends to come to pick him up.   
By the last drop of water, it was just past 5:15. His eyes blinked, but he felt so far from reality.  
His thumb skin stuck in his mouth, his left leg shaking. He felt as if he was underwater. Everything was slow and dark. And his head felt dizzy.  
“Lance?” The tired Cuban boy blinked a couple of times. Words slow to register in his head. Almost like the deafening silence of the night could never be broken.   
“Yes?” Veronica looked, shocked to see her brother at the kitchen counter at seven in the morning on a Saturday.   
“Whatcha doing?” Veronica’s words were soft, curious, cautious.  
“Oh, I’m waiting for Pidge and Hunk to come to get me for school,” Lance’s eyes itched, he blinked to release stress looking back at the clock on the oven stovetop, “they seem to be running late.”  
“You know you're still in your pajamas right cariño?”  
The teen boy looked at himself, he was shirtless, his hand me down teenage mutant ninja turtle pajamas loosely fit, the ankles rolled up out of habit still stuck to his legs. He smiled, “Yeah, I guess they are.”  
“Lance, love it’s Saturday, let’s get you back to bed,” Veronica reaches for the hand that her younger brother has on his lap.  
His face scrunched up, clearly distressed, “What? No! I’m gonna, I’m gonna be late for school-”  
Veronica was honestly scared. She had never seen her happy-go-lucky brother so upset. Her stomach dropped and her heartbeat in her chest.  
“No, Lance, you don’t have school today-” “I can’t leave! I’m gonna be late! Why aren’t you listening to me?”  
Veronica’s mouth snapped shut. “You’re right, how stupid of me,” The poor boy in front of her finally relaxed at her words, “here let me go get your backpack. Can I get you your backpack?”  
He nodded. Veronica's speed-walked into Luis’s room.  
“Luis wake up!” She shook her baby brother.  
“Fuck off Ronnie!”  
“It’s Lance.”  
Instantly Luis’s eyes shot up and he was on his feet in an instant. Veronica told him the situation in hushed whispers, telling him her plan. It was clear Lance wasn’t going to listen to anyone, he hoped he’d listen to Luis.

They tiptoed into the kitchen, their family fast asleep.   
“Lean?” Lance piped up at the nickname. Luis had trouble pronouncing Lan as a kid so instead, he called him Lean and ever since it was Lance’s soft spot.  
“Oh, Luis don’t you have school for another hour?” Luis nodded looking sheepish, “I would, but” the boy looked at Ronnie for confirmation. She nodded.  
“I, I don’t feel very well, and, and I don’t want to tell mom,” he rubbed his rib cage, “because I know she’ll baby me, do you think you could come to lay down with me for a bit?”   
Lance smiled nodding instantly, “Sure kiddo, but not for too long I’m already gonna be late.”  
“Okay I promise not to long,” Luis looked at his big sister once again, to which she winked.  
Yes, siblings could be the worst thing, you're forced to be around each other, your personalities may not fit, but you're still raised together and in a certain way, not everyone else knows. You know they will be there for you no matter what. Well, at least in the McClain family. Remember to not take what you have for granted.   
Lance curled up to Luis. They hadn’t done this since before Luis surgery when he was going through the worst of it, but this wasn’t for Luis. This is for Lance.  
And if Luis could return the favor in any way he could, he’d do it in a heartbeat.  
***  
“Es peor de lo que pensábamos,” Ronnie told her mom. Marina McClain nodded, kissing her son's head, her worry lines wrinkles around her eyes as she smiled sadly.  
“Lance, mi cariño.”  
***  
Lance’s eyes opened to be in a bed familiar, but not his own. His head ached and his eyes itched, the sun already looking like it was about to set. He reached for his phone, but it wasn’t there.  
He slowly sat up in Luis's bed. His thoughts were unrecognizable from any point on after he went to get a drink of water.  
He shifted his legs so he could begin to stand. His head spinning and black dots sparkling his vision. An iron deficiency high.   
He walked from Luis's bedroom into the hallway upstairs, the house a weird silent. Oh, right it’s the weekend Sophia and Carlos wouldn’t be here.   
His fingers traced along the wall covered in family photos. His nails grazing the frame of him as a kid, toothless Lance, hair much more golden brown than the dark strands that sat upon his head. His curls hadn’t died down though. Instead of kinky curls, Lance had that “aesthetic” but a bitch to take care of curls. One wrong condition and his hair could look like someone rubbed a balloon to his head.  
Next, he saw a picture of him when he was a few years older, his hair noticeably darker, yellow braces lined his teeth. He chose that color cause he loved yellow. Instead, it just made him look like he didn’t know how to brush his teeth.  
But that wasn’t the Lance you saw anymore, his dark freckles now light, his light hair now dark, his eyes more experienced, his ocean eyes have seen depths you couldn’t muster. Make-believe sea creatures, some beautiful and some dangerous.  
A scuba diver made swimming so easy, but if you throw a boy in a pool with his hands tied, he’ll drown.   
Lance walked into his room, deciding it was too cold in the still house to walk around without a shirt on.  
He was faced with his room, slipping on his blue and white college jersey top he found in the laundry hamper he had yet to sort through, and put away.  
Lance hadn’t realized the significance of the shirt till after he put it on. The voice of Matthew Holt whispering in his ear sent shivers down his back. As the memory started to fade, Lance’s mind tried to reach for it, to bring it back, but it disappeared into the fog that was his mind.  
Matt was so far away now, but when Lance put on his shirt, he seemed near, his cotton arms wrapped around Lance.  
Pidge got Matts glasses, Lance got his UCLA jersey. He was perfectly comfortable with that. Well, he was still confused about how Pidge saw through those considering she never needed to wear them before, could she even see through them? Maybe they were fake, but he had seen Matt wear contacts with the intent to help him see. Maybe Pidge wore contacts before?   
The hairs that stood on end now relaxed and calm. His chest expanded as he breathed in deep. The air in his room was thick and toxic. Eager to leave, he turned and opened his golden doorknob. Closing the door behind him shut, leaving it empty of life and to bask in its silence.  
He made a call to his mom asking where everyone was. Luis was at his friend's soccer game, Veronica was spending the night at her college friends house, and Rachel and mama were getting groceries for the upcoming week.  
With nothing else to do, and not wanting to talk to his close friends he texted the only other person he knew. Someone that was on his mind a lot these days…  
Lancelot: free to ft?  
Immediately he got a reply, like always with this light-haired dork.   
ratthewholt: always.  
“Hey!” Matt spoke, his sunshine smile infectious to Lance causing his lips to curl upwards.  
“Hi! What’s up?” Matt made a loud exhale with his mouth thinking about the question, “Not much, just procrastinating my 100-page essay we got a couple of months ago, what about you?”  
Lance shrugged, unsure of what to say, “Not sure really, you graduated high school you know what I’m doing,”   
Matt laughed, “Yeah, I guess that’s true, but there is always some lame drama caused by one of the freshmen, and that’s where all the good tea comes in.”   
Lance smiled, his dimples out on full display, “Yeah, that is true,” the Cuban boy thought about it for a while, “Oh right, we were supposed to take the PSAT two weeks ago and the SAT last week, but our dumbass school gave us the real SAT so they are still deciding what to do.”  
The ginger boy in front of him started cackling, to say the least, “How the fuck do they do that?”  
“Probably that one attendance lady that screams at the kids who wear crop tops,”  
“Oh, shit wait what’s her name? Uh- Mrs… Mrs. Morgans!”  
“We don’t even have a dress code! Why would she send them to the office, the workers there can’t do anything?!”  
Matt also had very light freckles across his nose, in the golden sunset lighting they shone like stars. His brown eyes creased with his smile.   
“Speaking of clothes,” his expression displayed mischief, “isn’t that the shirt I gave you?”  
Lance blushed looking down, “Hey! You gave me this! I’m gonna wear it, it’s comfy as hell, I don’t understand why you gave away such a cozy shirt so easily.”  
“It was an easy decision considering I gave it to someone I care about,” Lance rolled his eyes despite his cheekbones tinted a darker shade, “Shut up dork.”  
Matt laughed again.  
***  
They talked for a long time after that, and once Lance’s family got back he just put in his earbuds and spoke, just a tad quieter, well, tried to.  
“How’s your mystery girl doing by the way,” Lance inquired, winking. He regretted asking immediately after Matt’s eyes shifted to a different emotion.  
“Oh, yeah she’s cool, I guess,” his words wandered off as he was deciding to talk about her, “we, we’re kind of on a break.” Lance’s stomach did a U-turn, “But it’s good, healthy for us, maybe once... if we get back together you’d like to meet her?” Lance nodded instantly, “if she makes you happy I’d love too.” Matt smiled after that, “Uh- yeah, yeah she does.”  
“Anyway enough of my love life, how’s the old Loverboy Lance doing?” “Ugh, oh my god, I only got that name ‘cause I used to like Allura, and you liked her at the same time as me!” Matt chuckled.  
“Okay, okay I apologize,” Matt put his hands up in surrender, “no but seriously who comes to your mind when you think of someone attractive?”  
Lance instantly thought to black hair, pale skin, leather gloves, and violet eyes-, “Nope not doing that!” Matt started laughing his ass off and Lance abruptly ended the call without even saying goodbye.


End file.
